Bassist Instinct (The Rocker Series #2) Read online

  “You are dead man,” he said.

  “I’m defending what’s mine, so I am.” The sirens stopped and Tate slid away from the door and pulled Fiona further away from the Russian, keeping the gun trained on him the whole time. The Russian’s eyes never left his.

  ***

  The rest of the night involved police and stomach pumps. Poor Fiona was so white she was blue with black circles under her eyes. She was exhausted and weak, but alive, and under an armed guard. Tate never left her side.

  “James is dead, shot once in the chest and twice in the back of the head.” Liam told Tate as Fiona slept in his arms, tubes in every available vein. “They found a key to her house when they destroyed her office, they came in earlier today and drugged her wine. There was enough in there to fell an ox.” He inhaled shakily. “I spoke with her earlier this evening and she was slurring her words, I just didn’t imaging anything like this.” He shook his head. He should have guessed something was wrong, she so rarely drank anything at all.

  “The locks are being changed as we speak, and an alarm system is being installed. Hers must be the only house on the street without one. Tate, thank you, you saved her life again.”

  Tate nodded, he wasn’t ready to examine how he felt about Fiona, certainly not with her brother, but it felt suspiciously like Razz was right. He loved her.

  “When can I take her home?”

  “I’ll ask.” Liam stood and touched Fiona’s head. “She’s never had it easy.” He walked out of the room. Tate’s phone buzzed and he looked at it.

  *Are you guys okay?* Tess texted.

  *Dandy. She’s exhausted and a little battered, but breathing and in my arms. Let them know, aye?*

  *Okay, love you. Hey, don’t break her heart*

  Tate closed his eyes and fell asleep cradling his lover in his arms.

  ***

  She woke up a few times during the night, and each time the first thing she had been aware of was Tate’s solid body comfortingly there. Her own body felt like a truck backed over it, and she thought there might be a nest of squirrels living in her mouth, but Tate was there, holding her, and all was right with the world. Now if only she had a cup of tea.

  ***

  Tate carried her from the car to her bed despite her protestations.

  “Humor me, love, how many more years am I going to be able to do this? I’m getting old.” She laughed. “Are you hungry, lass?”

  “No, would you… do you mind holding me until I sleep? It shouldn’t take long,” she stifled a yawn even as she said it. “I need to brush my teeth though.”

  “Mind? It’s why I’m here.”

  She hobbled to the bathroom and came back out a few minutes later.

  “Let’s get you undressed,” he undressed her slowly and touched her bare shoulder, running his finger down her arm. Her eyes closed and she shivered.

  “Tate,” she whispered his name and he put his lips to her mouth. “Thank you for coming back just in time to save me from God knows what.” He picked her up and took her to bed.

  “You’re most welcome,” he said quietly and held her to him.

  “I am indebted to you, but I need you to go.” Tate felt her pull away from him and he thought she was trying to keep him safe again.

  “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

  “Yes, you are, Tate. Don’t fight me on this.”

  “Are you seriously asking me to go?” He pulled away from her to look at her face but she looked away. “Fi?”

  “I’ve had a really horrible day. Beginning with my security detail being unable to look me in the eye after they saw you sneaking out holding your shoes, and ending with my stomach contents being pumped out of me. I had a lovely weekend with you, but I can’t go through that again.” She sat up and looked at him, but then realized that may have been a mistake. The look in his eyes was devastating. She reached up to touch his face but she stopped just before her hand got there and tucked it away. “Please send whatever paperwork you need me to sign, but you can be assured that I would never say anything to anyone about our time together.”

  “Paperwork? Our time together? What are you…? Do you mean the confidentiality thing?” She nodded. “You must think I’m a right wanker,” he got out of bed. “Christ, Fi.” He ran his hand through his short hair. He’d hurt her, just like he said he wouldn’t. His eyes scanned the room for inspiration. He had never been dumped before. He knelt next to the bed and looked at her lovely face.

  “The confidentiality thing is for Genna’s and the kid’s safety, so that any plans, travel and the like, don’t get leaked, not for when I’ve been acting the eejit. I left before the sun came up for the Lamborghini shoot. You were curled up like a cat in the sunshine with a smile on your face and I didn’t want to wake you. God knows I haven’t given you a chance to sleep the past few nights. Fiona, I’ve missed you like a crack whore all bloody day, and when I finally get back to you I think you’re dead, slung over that bastard’s shoulder like a side of beef, his manky hand on your arse like he owned it.” He shuddered. “Did you not get my flowers?”

  “I… There was no note, I thought it was the kiss off,” she bit her lip. “You should have told me or left a note. I figured you were just finished.”

  “No, I’m not bloody finished. I am not used to…this. I’ve never thought about telling anyone my schedule, I just do my thing. Fiona, I…”

  “I know. You move on from woman to woman. I know. Can you see how I may have jumped to the conclusion that you left?”

  “My reputation has finally bitten me in the arse. Tell me you don’t hate me,” he said softly and she grimaced.

  “I don’t hate you, Tate,” she whispered. It was much worse than that, she thought.

  “But you’re angry with me?”

  “Yes, and with myself.” She bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering. “You’ve been nothing but wonderful and I immediately jumped to conclusions. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have thought the worst.”

  “You are exhausted. Let me hold you while you sleep, you know you sleep better with me holding you, so stop looking at me like that,” he stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed next to her. “Tomorrow, or the next day, when you’re a little stronger, you can really let me have it.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her head. “Sleep now, Fi.”

  “I’m still quite mad,” she said nestling into his arms comfortably.

  “I know, but you’re softening because I saved you and I have this sexy accent you can’t resist,” he grinned and she huffed out a laugh. “And I make you laugh when you’d rather cry.”

  “Damn you, Tate Dylan.”

  ***

  When he was gone the next morning, or afternoon, she wanted to kick something. Her head pounded and her throat ached and it felt like the squirrels had moved from her mouth to her stomach. The bedroom door swung open and Tate backed into the room with a tray of dry toast and tea. She was so close to tears she had to look away.

  “You’re awake,” he said grinning at her.

  “Barely,” she said roughly.

  “I didn’t know what you could face this morning, er,” he looked out the window at the sunshine. “I mean today, so I thought I’d start with tea.” He put the tray down and sat next to her with his feet on the counterpane. “And toast. It’s what my mam would do. I’ll remake the bed to get your crumbs out while you have your bath.”

  “Tate,” she croaked and he handed her a cup of tea. She took a sip and closed her eyes. It was exactly what she needed, and she was going to fall for the crazy Lucky Charms leprechaun if she wasn’t careful. “Quit being so wonderful.” She felt the bed move as he got more comfortable. Reluctantly she opened her eyes, and there he was looking gorgeous and playful and she probably looked like a vampire.

  “Never in life.”

  ***

  After standing in the shower for almost forty minutes, Fiona dried off, wrapped a towel around herself and padded
back to bed. Her entire body hurt but she slept really well. She’d had vivid dreams her entire life, but last night there was nothing, just a healing nothingness. She fell back into bed and slept again.

  When she woke Tate was there spooning her. His warm body was pressed against her and his heart thumped reassuringly behind her.

  “How do you feel?” He said softly.

  “Like I’ve been through the wringer,” she said and he chuckled.

  “You have. Can I give you a massage?” An involuntary moan escaped her lips and he laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes. Roll on to your belly.” She did and he pulled the sheets away and began to rub her shoulders and arms. As he worked his way down her spine she just relaxed right into the mattress.

  “Tell me about New York,” she said and he chuckled a little.

  “New York. Well, I can’t say I was paying too much attention to anything, all I could think about was how much I missed you. The day went well, Jimmy Fallon is pretty funny. He and Connor did a lip syncing competition and it was pretty entertaining. Connor was having trouble not singing, he kept shouting lyrics, that was the best part. Connor’s quick witted, as is Jimmy, they bantered a bit. I just tried not to look too stupid.”

  “You’d never look stupid, Tate.”

  “You’re just struck mindless with my massage,” he said and she snorted.

  “Very true.”

  “Before the taping, Ryan disappeared for too long, and Mikey found him in the toilet snapping his fingers just above the bowl. Three inches above the water, six inches above the water, you get the idea. We all gathered round him listening, and pretty soon the band was setting up in the toilet outside of studio 6-B. The acoustics in there were interesting, and Ryan needed to play with it.”

  “So you spent a good part of your day in the bathroom?”

  “Yes, but with a film crew, which was a first for me,” he grinned and even though she couldn’t see him, she knew he was grinning and she smiled, too. “And Christie was there, too. I’m afraid that was not a first for me.” He worked her hamstrings and her calves and then devoted himself to her feet for some time.

  “The twins ran out on the stage to find Ryan, which got the whole crowd sighing, ‘Aw.’” Fiona laughed.

  “Aw,” she said.

  “It was good to see my mate, Razz.”

  “How’s his wife?”

  “Mary,” he smiled at the back of her head. He was pleased she asked about Mary, but he wasn’t sure why. “She’s healthy, just very uncomfortable. Razz says everything is giving her heartburn, even breathing and she’s knackered all the time, but she never complains. He’s gone straight back to her, and won’t leave Dublin again ‘till she’s had the babe. I didn’t think he’d make it through the interview, he was that eager.” He chuckled and moved to her other foot. “She’s got wild cravings, she’s keeping the Indian restaurant in the neighborhood busy making korma and poppadums, something she didn’t like until she got pregnant.” He moved up her calf and to her other hamstring. “Sort of explains the heartburn, though.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Your hamstrings are very tight.”

  “I usually exercise every day, but I haven’t in a while because of all this craziness. Tate, are you rubbing my bum?”

  “I am indeed, it’s the largest muscle in the human body, it needs attention,” he brought his teeth to it. “Lots of attention.”

  “Mmm.” This was the best backrub ever.

  Chapter Ten

  Tate had an impish look on his face.

  “What are you up to?” She couldn’t help but smile at him, he was adorable.

  “Now that you’re completely recovered, I thought we might get berco,” he pulled a bottle of Patron Silver out from behind his back and gave her a wicked grin. It had been a week since her poisoning, and she was feeling much better. The fact that Tate Dylan had been rousing company for her didn’t hurt at all.

  “Um, berco?”

  “Stinking drunk.”

  “You don’t have to get me drunk, Tate, I’ll sleep with you,” she grinned wickedly back. He put a hand to his heart.

  “Bless you, lassie.” He broke the seal as she laughed. “Have you done this before?”

  “Gotten drunk or gotten drunk on tequila?” He thought about it. She didn’t seem the type to do much of either, really.

  “Either,” he put his arm around her waist. She giggled.

  “Not for a long time, but I’ve never done shots, is it safe?”

  “Absolutely not, I plan on taking advantage of you as soon as I can.” She squinted at him.

  “I meant…”

  “I know, Fi. But look at the security around this place, love, ye’ve got men inside and out, and they’re sober. Let your hair down, my lovely,” he put his hand up to her hair and brushed it away from her shoulders.

  “Mmm, that feels nice,” she closed her eyes and tipped her head back. He couldn’t help himself, he bent to her and kissed her. “Mmm, that feels nice, too. Set me up, Dylan, let’s get barco.” He grinned.

  “Berco,” he chuckled. “You find wee glasses, I’ll fetch a lime,” he headed to the fridge and found several in a drawer. He managed a kitchen fairly well, she thought, liking the look of him slicing limes on her cutting board and arranging them in a bowl. He peeked in a few cabinets and found the Himalayan Sea salt grinder and spying a bag of chocolate chips he pulled them out, too. “Let’s bake cookies, while we’re at it.” He had a childlike expression of pure glee on his face. Fiona laughed.

  “We should do that before we get drunk,” she said but he was shaking his head.

  “You’re missing the point, lemming.” A security agent came through the kitchen and looked at the bottle, shot glasses and limes. He tried not to smile, but it was clearly an effort. “None for you, mate.” The security agent did smile then and raise a hand.

  “No sir, not tonight. Carry on,” he said checking the kitchen door and walking back to the front of the house, Fiona watching him the whole way.

  “I hate thinking that they could get hurt.” Tate looked at her and then filled the two glasses.

  “Then let us begin,” he put the crescent of flesh that spanned the area from her thumb to her forefinger to his mouth and winked at her. He then ground salt there and handed her a wedge of lime, and did the same for himself, only shaking the salt grinder. “On three.”

  “Wait, one, two, three go, or one, two, three?”

  “On three, love. One, two, three go is just wrong. Ready?” He grinned.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Okay, salt, drink, lime. Three!”

  “Eek!” She put the salt to her mouth, tossed back the tequila and bit into the lime. Then she coughed and squished up her face. Tate laughed. “I’m okay! Set me up again.”

  “Easy, Fi.” He went to the cupboard and found a pitcher and two glasses and pulled them out. He filled the pitcher with water and brought everything out to the living room. “Drink a glass of water, I’ll be right back.” A minute later he came back with the tequila, salt and limes, and he set them up again. This time he took more time with the crescent for the salt on her hand, licking it thoroughly. Their eyes met. “I could do that all night.”

  “Feel free.” Her voice was warm, and it made him tingle all over. His eyes went black and she smiled. “This tequila stuff really works.” He handed her a lime and filled their shot glasses.

  “Wait, do you have a guitar?”

  “Nope. Three.” She drank the shot, forgetting the salt. Tate laughed when she licked the salt after and then bit the lime. Her face scrunched and her mouth puckered. “Oh God.” He drank his shot slowly as he watched her. She was so much fun. “I have a cello, it’s a stringed instrument. Can you play the cello?”

  “As a matter of fact, I can,” he grinned at her. She loved his grin.

  “Top of the stairs.” She pointed and he bounced up the stairs after it whistling a tune she recognized. She stood and went to the pian
o. It wasn’t often that she drank, and she couldn’t think of a time when she played the piano with a buzz, there was a good reason for not doing so, but suddenly she didn’t feel it mattered. Ah, she thought, I’m feeling a distinct lack of inhibitions. Sitting down on the bench she thought of one of Tate’s songs, and began to play it as he bounced back down the stairs. He stood, stunned, holding the cello and staring at her from the arched doorway watching her play.

  Halfway through the song she stopped and turned, knowing he was there.

  “You found it, are you going to play the cello for me?”

  “Fiona, you are clearly more than just a music teacher; that was incredible.”

  “It’s your song.”

  “How many times have you heard it?”

  “Um, once or twice. Tate, it’s what I do, don’t be too impressed.”

  “Too late, I’m bloody impressed,” he walked over to the piano. “Is it like a photographic memory? Maybe a phonographic memory?”

  “It’s called eidetic memory, and there’s some skepticism as to whether or not it exists,” she shrugged. “I remember music. I taught myself how to play the piano when I was little. I remembered which keys made what sound. I’m like a trained parrot, really. I can’t write music, only play it.”

  “You’re bloody brilliant, you are,” he kissed her. “Is that what Lally meant when he said you were a child prodigy? I thought he was exaggerating.” She nodded.

  “I was a child prodigy. All my father’s children have some type of gift, Liam’s is language; he can speak about eleven. Kathleen’s is photographic memory, she can remember imagined slights from thirty years ago, and I got musical memory. I wouldn’t trade for anything, I love music, and once I hear it, it’s mine forever. My father is a musician, too. You might have heard of Billy McBride and the Ballyhoos.” He laughed with surprise.